Tears of A Clown
by Furious Dee
Summary: BJ can't say goodbye. A little elaboration on Hawkeye and BJ's running disagreement during 'Goodbye, Farewell and Amen'. Unashamedly bromantic. I own nothing, sadly.


**Tears of A Clown**

This is a short story I wrote _years_ ago after watching 'Goodbye, Farewell and Amen' for the thousandth time. It only recently occurred to me to upload it here; their epic bromance should always be shared, in my book.

I might take a break from my usual Torchwood fanfic-writing to do something a little more intense with Hawkeye and BJ. We shall see.

Reviews are more than welcome. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Say it."<p>

"No."

"Beej…"

"It's _not_ goodbye."

BJ paced The Swamp as Hawkeye poured himself another desert-dry home-brewed Martini. He fondly patted the copper coils of their precious still, wondering whether he could conceivably abandon all of his luggage and simply take it home with him. After so long existing on moonshine filtered through cheap military socks, real alcohol would surely ruin his stomach.

"Beej, snap out of it, we leave at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow" Hawkeye sighed, the words morphing into a groan when he realised what he'd said. "Jesus, I wonder when I'll stop doing that..."

"What?"

"Talking like the army."

"Don't you have twenty-four hour clocks in Maine?"

"Nobody cares what the time is in Crabapple Cove" Hawkeye stated, waving off the question. "Listen Hunnicutt, whether you like it or not, this _is_ goodbye. You haven't experienced this yet but I had to go through it with Henry _and _Trapper before you were even in the country."

The mention of Trapper – a man BJ had never even met – stung. He had heard the moniker mentioned more in the last two days than in the entirety of his endless run in this Hellhole, as those who had been in Korea from the start reminisced fondly about those lost or left. What a _good guy_ John McIntyre was, and what mischief he and Hawk had caused.

What a team.

"I'm not ready" he stated flatly, sitting down on his cot and staring at the floor.

"Well _get _ready. Christ, you've got it better than any of us, what's _wrong_ with you? You've got Peg and Erin waiting in sunny California with open arms! Most of us who didn't get Dear John's or Jane's while over here have _nothing_, we have to start from scratch! All I have is a father who's aged a year for every week this filthy rotten war has gone on, worrying himself sick about me. What happened to the endless optimism of Captain Hunnicutt, owner of the biggest smile in camp with six billion shiny teeth and the only man who can _fill_ novelty clown shoes?" Hawkeye ranted, flailing tense limbs with his usual nervous energy.

"I guess I ran out of optimism" BJ mumbled, wringing his hands. Hawkeye let out an infuriated growl and shoved a glass into his friend's hand. BJ hesitated before draining the poison within and grimaced as he wordlessly handed back the receptacle. His friend plucked out the uneaten olive and rolled it between his finger and thumb, gazing lovingly at it despite the fact that it was the same colour as the uniform he felt he'd always be stained by.

"Ahh my last gift; I'm touched" Hawk said with more than a little sarcasm.

"Your last gift will be a kick in the teeth if you don't quit it."

Hawkeye stared in amazement, almost choking on the oily fruit he had popped into his mouth.

"Violence, Beej? That's just too out of character for me to pass up. Talk to me buddy, come on. I don't want us to part ways pissed with each other."

Hawkeye landed heavily next to BJ on the bunk and nudged him with his shoulder, choosing to make this right rather than take the coward's route and keep cracking wise. BJ leaned on him a little.

"I'm not prepared to give up on our friendship" BJ sighed. "I _know_ we'll be on opposite sides of the country, I know it'll be tough, but I refuse to just lie down and let the army separate us. It'd be their last kick in our asses and we shouldn't let it happen, you know?"

"Yeah Beej, I know." Hawkeye offered him a weak, stricken smile. "I'm sorry I've been so pessimistic about the whole thing. We'll work it out as we go along, okay?"

BJ nodded and let more of his weight rest against Hawkeye's shoulder as the other man continued.

"At first I thought I was more likely to bump into ol' Chuck than anyone else, before I realised he'll undoubtedly hide himself away in the familial manor and never socialise with anybody he isn't related to ever again... and even if I did see him, I've no doubt he'd pretend we've never even shared the same _planet_, let alone the same state."

BJ smiled. Mocking Charles always had that effect. Shyly and without turning towards him, he placed his hand atop Hawkeye's and squeezed gently. Hawkeye shifted his own hand in reaction, causing BJ momentary embarrassment about the intimate touch as he was sure his friend would pull away, until he realised that their fingers were being laced together in an impenetrable knot, palm-to-palm.

"It'll be okay, Beej" Hawkeye tried to reassure him in a strained voice, hoping against hope that it was true. "All the shit we've been through together, it _means_ something. You're right, it is too damn good to give up. I love you too much."

BJ turned to him, seeing the effort behind that admission in Hawkeye's ageing yet handsome face. Hawkeye had been crying a lot lately, and it was conspicuously brewing up once more. At least this time, it wasn't fuelled by anger.

The kiss BJ gave him was meant for his cheek, but ended up firmly planted at the corner of his mouth, and Hawkeye's lips parted slightly as he accepted the tender gesture for what it was. A quivering, exhausted sigh left his lungs, and BJ clung to him, burying his face in thick greying hair.

"Just one thing..." Hawkeye murmured, grasping at BJ's back as if he'd fall off the world otherwise.

"Hmm?"

"When we meet up, back in the States, you'd better have shaved off that stupid cheesy moustache."

...

"Never."


End file.
